ROBESPIERRE PAYS A VISIT TO M. DUPLAY.
I had no sooner quitted this frightful scene of bloodshed, than,
thanking my saviors, I sprang forward towards the river, in order to
cross it by boat, or, if there was a necessity, to swim it.
The affair seemed to me grave. There must have been some treachery on
foot, of which, in my mind the Jacobins ought to be instructed.
There happened to be, in a boat anchored to the river’s bank, a man
fishing, who did not disturb himself, notwithstanding the thundering
of the cannon.
Nothing ever disturbs a man fishing. To untie the rope, jump into
the boat, and take possession of the oars, was but the work of a few
moments. I had nearly half-way crossed the river before he recovered
from his astonishment.
At length, he demanded what I meant by this violence, both to himself
and to his boat? I showed him a paper, and said, “An order from
General Lafayette.” That was sufficient.
I jumped out on the right bank, leaving the boat, with its owner, to
regain the left.
Once on solid ground, I took to my heels, and by Cours la Reine, and
the Porte St. Honoré, I set out for M. Duplay’s house as fast as my
legs could carry me.
From Cours la Reine to the Church of the Assumption, in front of
which M. Duplay lived, I found the streets greatly agitated and full
of people.
The red flag, the Mayor, the dragoons, and the paid guard were seen
to pass; then, again, they had heard the terrible discharge of
musketry; so that seeing me come from the Champ de Mars, running, the
perspiration dropping off me, and all covered with blood, every one
inquired of me the whole way along,—“What is the matter?”
I had but one reply to make, and that while I was running.
“The dragoons and the paid guard are slaughtering the people!”
I found M. Duplay at his door, surrounded by a group of neighbors and
acquaintances. I related to him all that had taken place.
“Oh, ho!” said he; “the Jacobins must be informed of this. Quick!—let
us run to the club!”
About fifty members awaited the news with impatience. They had,
as yet, heard nothing. I was the first messenger of the mournful
intelligence.
They said that M. Robespierre must at once be informed, and a
messenger was despatched to the Assembly to fetch him.
The Jacobins knew one fact, and that was, that all the blame would be
left on their shoulders. It was they who had taken the initiative in
the affair of the petition. The Constitutionals, who had separated
from them, in order to form the new clubs Feuillants, washed their
hands of this popular movement in opposition to the decree of the
Assembly.
They thanked M. Duplay and myself, and refused to recognise any
petition tending to the dethronement of the King. Everything was
circulated in the name of the Assembly, and the society swore anew
fidelity to the Constitution and submission to the decrees of the
Assembly.
After what had presented itself to my view the preceding days, and
after what I had written at the dictation of Citizen Brissot, I
found this submission too prompt. There was at the bottom of it all
an abandonment of the rights of the people, and a cowardice which
disgusted me.
I left the club, and returned pensively to the house.
A half an hour or so after, might be heard a great disturbance
towards the Place Louis XV.
It was the paid guard, who were re-entering Paris by the Rue St.
Honoré, to have an occasion to make a demonstration against the
Jacobins.
One had hardly the time to form palisades.
The paid guard collected themselves before the Convent, demanding
powder to blow the gate and demolish the den of the Republicans. They
were laughed at; they were applauded; they were hissed. The street
was full of people, looking at one another, ready to come to blows.
It was plain to be seen that one of those misunderstandings had taken
place which places the gun to one’s shoulder without one’s knowing
upon whom to fire.
All at once, I could perceive, in the Rue Luxembourg, a man gliding
down the street, with an evident desire to pass unnoticed.
I pulled my master’s coat, and whispered to him, “The Citizen
Robespierre.”
It was indeed none other but he, who had been sent to the Assembly,
and who had arrived there just in time to have the door shut on his
nose.
It was evident that if he was recognised by the paid guard, he would
run the risk of being shot.
He was at this moment recognised by a group of persons, and cheered.
No doubt, they were Jacobins.
He quickened his pace, descending the street, to gain speedily the
Faubourg St. Honoré.
At the Rue de Luxembourg, several cries were raised of “Vive
Robespierre!”
He turned pale, and hesitated whether to take the Luxembourg or
continue his road. He continued.
“Vive Robespierre!” again cried a man. “And since it is absolutely
necessary to have a King, why not have him?”
Robespierre thought himself lost. He looked on all sides for shelter.
Duplay rushed towards him.
“At my house—at my house, citizen!” said he. “My name is Duplay! I am
master carpenter, and a good citizen!”
“Yes, yes—at our house!” said Madame Duplay and Mademoiselle Cornelie.
And all three—the man and the two women—surrounded Robespierre, who,
without the slightest resistance, allowed himself to be led into the
alley.
I entered last, and locked the door.
The retreat was effected so prudently, that hardly a soul had
perceived the manœuvre.
Those that did see him said nothing, so that no noise was made at the
door.
Robespierre was extremely pale. He sat down, or rather fell, on the
first chair that came in his way. Mademoiselle Cornelie wiped his
forehead with her pocket-handkerchief, while Madame Duplay brought
him a glass of fresh water.
I placed the glass to his lips, but his hand shook so, that he made
the glass chink against his teeth.
However he drank, looked around him, tried to smile, and said, “I see
that I am with friends.”
“Say, rather, with admirers—with devoted admirers!” replied M. Duplay.
“Oh, yes!” replied the three women.
“Oh, if I had known it,” said M. Duplay, “I would not have allowed
you to present yourself at the National Assembly.”
“How so?” said Robespierre.
“Yes; it was Réné,”—M. Duplay pointed me out,—“it was Réné, a good
young man, a staunch patriot, and a friend of M. Drouet de St.
Menehould, who, you know, arrested the King; it was Réné who came and
announced the massacre on the Champ de Mars. We have but one bond to
the Jacobins, and, as I belong to the club——”
“Ah, I now recognise you,” said Robespierre.
“Then it was decided to go and fetch you.”
“And I arrived just in time to see the gates shut. Not wishing to
return home, at the bottom of the Marais, I was going to get a little
shelter at the house of Pétion, who lives in the Faubourg St. Honoré.
You came across me on my road, and brought me here. I ask permission
to remain here all night. Surrounded by the spies of Lafayette, and
satellites of Bailly, the life of an honest man runs great danger. I
do not fear death, but my ambition is to die in a way useful to my
country.”
I assisted at this scene without the slightest emotion. It seemed to
me a great honor to address this great man.
“Then,” said he, “you are the friend of the Citizen Drouet?”
“He cared for me like a father,” said I. “The little I know I owe to
him and to Rousseau.”
“Ah, young man, you have Rousseau?”
“I know him by heart.”
“Good master—great master! I, also, was his scholar, and I hope to do
him credit one of these days.”
Duplay and his wife listened with their mouths open, nearly on their
knees.
For some time, Duplay seemed as if he wished to ask a question. His
wife and he had exchanged two or three significant glances.
“Would the Citizen Robespierre do us the honor of supping with us?”
“I would not trouble you so much,” said Robespierre. “And then,
again, my sister would be anxious.”
“But you were going to sup with the Citizen Pétion.”
“Yes; but from Pétion’s I could have let my sister know.”
“Very well; she can be informed from here as well.”
“Have you any person certain?”
“There is me, citizen,” said I.
“Would you have that kindness?”
“I will be only too happy to render this service to M. Duplay.”
“Then have the goodness to give me pen, ink, and paper.”
The two young girls brought him the pen and paper.
He wrote, in a small hand, the following:—
“MY SISTER,—
“Don’t be uneasy. I am in safety.
“Your brother,
“MAXIMILIAN.”
He then sealed his letter, and wrote the address in a bold hand,
which reminded me greatly of his character,—
_To Mdlle. Charlotte de Robespierre_.
_No. 7 Rue Saintange_
_At the Marais._
I took the letter, and went on my mission.